


Sensibilities

by dreambeliever



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreambeliever/pseuds/dreambeliever
Summary: This piece comes from two separate thoughts:First- why is Jareth, who by all accounts is a grown (probably immortal) man, interested in a romantic relationship with a sixteen year old?Two- as we know the goblins aren't the smartest beings, what would happen if someone didn't wish away a baby, but a pet?Or, Jareth befriends an adult by mistake and the two catch feelings along the way.
Relationships: Goblins & Jareth (Labyrinth), Jareth (Labyrinth)/Original Female Character(s), Jareth (Labyrinth)/Reader, Jareth/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Labyrinth or any of its offshoots/characters/settings/etc., nor am I attempting to monetize this piece of work.
> 
> This is not compliant with any of the novelizations.
> 
> A few of Jareth's lines in the first scene are taken from the movie.

The Goblin King watched as you squinted at the castle in the distance. You were wearing a tight chemise and very loose pants, neither of which looked comfortable. Considering he had swept you away at midday Earth time, your outfit choice surprised him. You were also older than most Runners, but it meant no difference to him. Age was irrelevant to an immortal being. Even the oldest humans were like children to him. But there were crows feet at your eyes and laugh lines by your lips that told him you had lived your life, and it had been an emotional one.

“Turn back,” he said. “Before it’s too late.”

Your gaze snapped back to him, and you wrinkled your nose. “Before what’s too late?”

He pursed his lips. “Were you not listening when I explained what you have done? What you must do?”

“No,” you said with a half-hearted shrug. “I was. But I’m still not convinced this isn’t a dream, so I may have been distracted. Plus you popped in with that all in my face and I was definitely distracted.” You flapped your hands near Jareth’s midsection. His _crotch_ , if your gaze upon him was true. He swallowed and forced away a blush. He was an ageless King, for Faerie’s sake. It’s not as if he didn’t _want_ the Runners to gaze upon him. The curse required him to find the one that would remain with him as his consort and love. That was the entire point to the game, meaning your wandering eyes were welcome. But also surprising; certainly, the Runners found him alluring, but there was an expectation and maturity in your notice the others never had. Jareth cleared his throat.

“You have thirteen hours in which to solve the labyrinth before your baby sister becomes one of us forever, such a pity,” he said with a smile that was all teeth. He pointed to the clock he conjured as it started counting down.

“But what part of that is the ‘before it’s too late’ bit?” 

“I beg your pardon?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and appeared to plant your feet. “You said ‘turn back before it’s too late.’ Which implies me playing your challenge has some terrible consequence. But it seems like _not_ playing is the terrible option, if you’re turning people into goblins if I fail.”

Jareth blinked. Did you not understand the clock was _literally_ ticking? “If you lose, you could be stuck here forever,” he said somewhat dumbfounded. No one had yet, but again, that was the entire point, trying to find someone to give up and stay with him.

“What if I don’t have thirteen hours to spare? You whisked me away from a very busy evening, you know.”

“Time moves differently here,” he offered. He wasn’t sure why he was indulging your many questions. But it was your time to waste. “If you leave now, or if you win, you will return to your home without a moment of your time passing. The only difference is whether you have your baby sister as a passenger or not.”

You hummed. “Let me make sure I understand. If I play and win, I assume everything goes back to normal. But if I lose, I could get stuck here.” You slid your gaze back to him expectantly. He nodded. “Do _I_ get turned into a goblin if I lose?”

“No…”

“And if I don’t compete, I go straight home, but you keep the kid anyway?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

You still didn’t move, appearing to be taking in the landscaping. With a surprisingly graceful movement, you sat down on the ground, crossing your legs at the ankle and watching the lights play in the distance. Jareth’s jaw almost dropped open. It would have, had he not centuries of control on his side. “Will you not _do_ something?” 

“I’m good,” you replied with a nonchalant wave of your hand. 

Jareth straightened. “Are you...are you conceding?” Could it be that easy? Could he have found the one who would remain with him? He didn’t dare to hope. Your inquiring nature was off-putting at first, but there were worse Runners he could have ended up with. He eyed the expanse of skin you showed above the beguiling chemise. There were _many_ worse Runners.

“No,” you said. “The game doesn’t apply to me. I’m taking a well-earned break until you take me home.”

“I beg your pardon!” 

You smiled up at him, and he thought he was looking in a mirror, your expression devious. “You didn’t take my baby sister. You took the cat I was watching, Baby.”

…

The day started like any other. You were holed up in your tiny apartment working on an appellate brief for your internship when everything went upside down. 

You’d enrolled in law school not because you were particularly suited for the law, or even interested in the field, but because it was convenient. You’d graduated college six years earlier, finishing in three years instead of the standard four, and worked entry level public relations and marketing jobs until you realized you’d never progress without another degree behind your name. _Damn the ubiquitousness of degrees,_ you had thought. Even the receptionist at your last job needed a four-year degree on her resume to get hired, though the pay wouldn’t cover her student loans and the job didn’t need one. 

As you stared down the end of your twenties, still not quite past the ‘entry-level’ scene, you looked into master’s programs. Each one required numerous tests _and_ additional bachelors-level credits you didn’t have. Your humanities and political science degree that had seemed so open-ended when you’d picked it, apparently wasn’t. Hence, law school. 

You were in your last year, your last semester, working as a criminal attorney for the local county office. You didn’t have time to work at a paying job while interning, and government attorneys on both sides of the aisle (prosecuting district attorneys and public defenders) didn’t pay. To make money, you walked dogs and offered cheap pet sitting gigs.

That weekend you were pet sitting a peterbald (hairless) cat named Baby that belonged to the aunt of your roommate. Your roommate wasn’t a law student (you’d realized the futility of living with a classmate early on--considering you competed for grades and the better you did/the worse others did, giving a competitor access to your home and notes had backfired; although perhaps you had chosen a bad roommate, none of the other law student roommates had had any issues) but a PhD literature major. The apartment being covered in books was a bonus to her presence, making your small living space look ‘charming’ and not ‘cramped and messy.’

Baby apparently had a vendetta against books, as she leapt from pile to pile, knocking them down like expensive and musty dominoes. She’d spent twenty minutes laying on your keyboard before you started piling the books again just to get her out of your space. (You didn’t think your boss or the judge would appreciate your brief ending “Accordingly, the lower court’s decision was free from sdfsjdlkfhsjjdjdjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj.”) You dutifully made and remade piles of books every few minutes, trying to keep your brain on your work, but you stopped after the constant interruptions had you forgetting the argument you were writing.

You sat on the floor next to the thrift-store floral patterned sofa, stacking and piling books while Baby meowed in the background. She batted at your newly made pile on the coffee table, knocking a thin red leather book into your lap. It was called “The Labyrinth” and you settled in to read with one hand, petting and entertaining Baby with the other.

Reading it didn’t take you that long, as it was a slim volume. It was essentially a fairytale, and probably something your roommate was citing for her thesis on how fairy tales are a microcosm of society’s evolving culture. 

But you’d spent too long procrastinating and needed to get back to your brief. It was unlikely your boss would even _use_ it for the case, but your grades couldn’t afford the chance. You settled back onto the folding table cum desk in the corner of the living room-slash-kitchen-slash-dining area and started typing on the tiny screen. Baby didn’t appreciate you ignoring her and tried to steal the CTRL key on the keyboard while you gently pushed her to the ground. That was when the yowling started. 

You couldn’t concentrate. You’d been working day and night at your two 'jobs' and hadn’t had a day off since spring break. You were tired, frustrated, and the money you were making wasn’t worth this. But you had to finish the brief, else your ability to find a job when you graduated was nil. (You conveniently ignored how going through with your plan to be a lawyer gave you a stomachache. You’d come too far to give up now; hence the need to finish the damned brief.) When Baby’s caterwauling crested to glass-breaking levels, you pressed your palms against your eyes and muttered, “I wish the goblins would come and take _you_ away right now.”

…

“ _Tada_ ,” you said to the attractive and bewildered man in front of you, gesturing with your hands as if you were announcing a prize on Wheel of Fortune. You kept your eyes firmly on his face after you found your gaze slipping downward more than once. His tight pants left nothing to the imagination, but you had done your best not to stare too much. You didn’t like people gawking at you, or you assumed you wouldn’t, if anyone had before. The entire ensemble made him look like he should be in front of a microphone crooning at a crowd of teenagers. His blond hair was long underneath and short and spiky up top and the precision in the lines of his eyeshadow would make expert makeup artists proud. His mismatched eyes were unusual, but it was the 80s. For all you knew, the eyes were a deliberate choice rather than a unique birth defect. 

He lost the startled look quickly and instead almost vibrated. A thunderclap sounded in the distance. “My goblins... stole a cat.” 

It didn’t sound like a question, but you answered anyway. “Yes. And then you appeared in a burst of glitter, which my roommate will blame on me, so I expect you to magic that away, and said I had to go with you if I wanted Baby back. I don’t meet the terms of the original contract, e.g. no child was taken, therefore, I am ineligible to play. As such, you have to give me Baby back.”

He shook his head, but the blond strands in his hair remained immovable. Maybe he liked hairspray? Again, it was the 80s… He waved his hands together and a large crystal ball, or bubble, appeared. He tossed it in the air and his voice boomed out as if he’d used a megaphone.

“There will be no run today. Everyone go back to your usual functions. The imbeciles responsible for this travesty shall immediately present themselves in the throne room.”

His voice had been even, but there was an intensity that held an unspoken threat. You hoped he wouldn’t punish the ‘imbeciles’ too harshly. You _had_ said the words. And maybe goblins didn’t know what human babies looked like. Maybe they thought the hairless cat was an unusually ugly child. You tried to appeal to the magician in front of you, your innate sense of fairness and the need for the innocent not to be punished for circumstances beyond their control taking center stage. 

Halfway through your impassioned plea for the ‘imbeciles,’ he held up a gloved land. “I am King of this realm. I will deal with my subjects as I see fit. And now, I must return you and Baby to your home.”

You shot up. “Now hang a minute. You said no time would pass on Earth while I was here. I was hoping for a bit of a break.”

He paused as the crystal he conjured stayed motionless in the air. “You would wish to stay here?”

You almost gawked at him. “Assuming this is real, who wouldn’t want to stay? I mean, hello, magic kingdom.” 

He furrowed his brow. “You would... stay here.”

“For thirteen hours at least,” you responded. “I’m not in a hurry to run right back.” 

His eyes twitched. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been staring so closely at him. “That is highly irregular.”

“So is kidnapping a cat. If you’ve got something else to do, never mind. I thought…”

“No,” he interrupted quickly. “That is acceptable.” He offered his arm. “Let me show you the castle first.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same notes as before.

Jay, as he had instructed you to call him, sat indolently on his throne. The throne room was almost empty, although, inexplicably, there were a few chickens in one corner. Or they _had_ been in the corner just a moment ago. You strained your neck from your seat on the steps to catch Baby’s back legs skitter out of the room, chasing the sound of clucking chickens. You leaned back down on your elbows and stared up at Jay. The Goblin King, he’d told you.

“It’s an odd curse,” you finally said. He’d explained why he kidnapped children, though he called it ‘requisitioning with consent.’ The gist was that he’d been cursed years ago by a vengeful fairy (one of which _he_ also was, your roommate would flip if she ever learned fairies were real) to remain alone in his Kingdom until someone willingly runs the Labyrinth and gives up the child and the life they knew. “I’m almost a lawyer. Maybe I could look at it and see if I found any loopholes?”

He smiled warmly at you. One of his teeth was jagged, but the effect made him more handsome than before. “That is very kind, Doctor.” You rolled your eyes at him. You had told him you were going to law school and only a few months away from receiving your _juris doctorate_ degree. Even though you were technically a doctor, it wasn’t the same as medical or phD ones. Jay didn’t care. “Many reviewed the language of the curse early on, and none could find any means of escaping it. I am trapped here and alone, unable to see my kind, until I break it.” He gestured around the room, unconcerned. “It could be worse. The goblins provide diversion.”

“It’s a big ask,” you offered. “Expecting someone to give up their entire life for someone they just met. Especially someone who is willing to get the kid they wished away back. You’d think you should ask the ones who don’t compete, they’ve got nothing to lose.”

He pursed his lips. “I suppose. But words have power. They shouldn’t wish away their charges if they cannot accept the consequences.”

“Of leaving the baby, sure. But nowhere in that spiel did you explain that the consequence of losing the child also meant they stay. That’s not a very wholesome start to a relationship.”

He scowled and sat up abruptly in the throne. “I am not a consequence.”

“Of course not,” you agreed. After the last ten hours, you realized you liked Jay. He was grandiose, sometimes petulant, and definitely full of himself, but charming with a similar sense of humor to yours. You didn’t know much about dating, anyway. Perhaps his methods were the most successful ones. That he was still alone in this realm, however, told you otherwise. “Maybe they just need to get to know you better. And you too. You don’t want to get stuck with someone incompatible to you simply because they lost your game.”

He nodded thoughtfully and smiled. “Thank you, Doctor. That is a wonderful suggestion.”

…

After the clock struck thirteen, Jay dropped you and Baby back home, removing all traces of glitter. You asked if he’d come visit you the next time he was on Earth. You thought you saw the faintest blush on his cheeks when he’d agreed, but convinced yourself it was a trick of the light. 

True to his word, he visited you every few months when he came to earth. He’d taken your advice and was attempting to get to know the Runners (his name for people transported to the Underground, his realm, to run the Labyrinth) before they arrived. Apparently, he kept track of every little red book in existence, and knew who had read it. Those that did were more likely than others to ‘say their right words’ and wish away a child. 

His first trip back to earth was eight months after you’d met him. By that point, you graduated law school, passed the bar, and had (shockingly) taken a position with the government entity you interned with previously. You put your whole soul into representing your clients, but the system was stacked against you, making you feel like nothing you did made a difference. Jay’s arrival was like a vacation for your brain and soul.

“One runner has come and gone since I last saw you,” he said, tossing himself on your messy bed after arriving through the living room window he’d previously used. He looked elegant laying on threadbare warehouse-store sheets, languidly spinning a crystal on one hand. 

“Just one?” You asked from the door. You debated where to sit before deciding to join him on the bed. It was your room. He may be a King, but not in this realm, and the bed was the only seating other than the floor. You pressed up against the wall, sitting cross-legged and gripping your pillow. He didn’t make room for you, meaning his head was next to your thigh. He gazed up at you with wide, mismatched eyes.

“It is a rare thing,” he whispered. “For a human to both read the book and feel the frenzy necessary to say the right words.”

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t frenzied,” you muttered. “Frustrated by Baby distracting me from my work.” 

He smirked up at you. “And how is the dear Baby? You know, the chickens have not recovered from her stalking.”

“She’s fine, I imagine. I’ve got a full-time job now so I don’t need the income from pet sitting anymore.”

“Congratulations,” he said. “It shouldn’t surprise me you wished away a source of money for you, but it does. You seemed more mature than the other Runners, and yet that outcome remained the same.”

You dropped the pillow on his head. “I am more mature, thank you very much. And I didn’t mean it. Plus, it was _your_ goblins that stole a cat.”

Jay pulled the pillow off his face and snarled at you, but there didn’t appear to be any heat in his expression. “I am a King, and your act is one of war.”

“You’ve spent too much time with goblins, King. I’m not your subject and you have no power over me.”

He sat up quickly and kneeled beside you. His eyes were wild with mischief. “I _have_ spent too much time with goblins. And a goblin’s favorite thing is to play tricks. You are outmatched.” With that, he brained you with the pillow. 

…

On his seventh trip, you finally worked up the nerve to ask about the outfit. 

“Do you not like it?” He asked it idly, as if he didn’t care about the answer, but there was a nervousness in his visage that told you otherwise. 

“I do,” you said. He was still tossing glitter around, which you could do without, but the feminine lines of his shirt and makeup coupled with the tight leave-nothing-to-the-imagination leggings and vast amounts of skin showing were a pleasing combination.

“Then you understand why I wear it.” He had made himself comfortable on your bed yet again. You were sitting side by side at the head of it, shoulders barely touching, staring at the mass-produced art you’d hung on the wall.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “This is...for me?”

He turned to look at you. Up close, his mismatched eyes were soft. “Partly. It is for the Runners. Everything I do is for them.”

A pang of disappointment hit you, but you weren’t sure whether it was because he felt he had to behave a different way for Runners, or the reminder that you weren’t a Runner. “Everything?”

His hands went to his long blond locks and touched them tentatively. “Well, not everything. I enjoy the way this looks. Much more than some of the ensembles I donned in ages past. But the purpose _is_ to entice the Runners.”

That made sense. Hadn’t you thought he looked like an 80s rock star when you’d first met him? If he was choosing his appearance to attract someone to stay with him, looking like sex and sin was the way to do it. You trailed your eyes down him. ‘Pleasing’ might have been too weak a word to describe him. Hoping your cheeks hadn’t reddened significantly, you crossed your arms around your stomach.

“If it were up to you, what would you wear?”

He pursed his lips and looked down at his flowing shirt. “I did enjoy it when Runners appreciated the pirate look.”

You huffed out a laugh. “That’s basically how you dress now but without the tight pants and glitter.”

“Well, I _could_ give up the glitter.” He shivered. "Have you ever tried getting glitter off of chicken feathers? Even with magic...no."

...

Jareth couldn’t explain why he kept coming back to visit you. Time in the Underground was wiggly, meaning it could feel like centuries had passed before he traversed to Earth again, when only minutes had gone by. The opposite was true, what was a few moments in the Underground could have been decades on Earth.

He worked very hard to keep track of the difference in time. He didn’t want to arrive a century later and find you dead. That thought always gave him a leaden feeling in his stomach, like when he’d let the goblins cook him dinner. He also didn’t want to arrive only moments after he left. That would imply he had nothing else to do but visit you (which was only _slightly_ true—he had other things he could do, he just didn’t want to). But even when mere months passed between his visits, it felt much longer. You were a luxury he hadn’t had since childhood—a friend, a companion, a confidant. That you were human was surprising. That you were a failed Runner absurd. He’d periodically watched his Runners after they’d won his game, out of boredom rather than disappointment. None of them were that interesting, although all appeared more responsible in their child rearing. Some of them realized that he was akin to a pawn in the game and exercised control over the Labyrinth early on, using that realization to bring self-actualization and power to their own lives. They were unintended benefits of the curse he was saddled with.

He liked you, that was apparent. Had you actually attempted the game and chosen to stay with him, he imagined he would have found happiness with you. It would have grown and blossomed, like one of the bizarre eye plants that grew up ‘round the Labyrinth.

You were on to something about getting to know the Runners, though. He’d wasted precious years down in the Underground, knowing who had the books but never investigating his potential life partners.

He wished you had met the terms of the game. He wished you had Run. You might not have left him like the others.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece basically ignores the subtext of The Labyrinth, specifically Sarah's coming-of-age story and her choices in transitioning/evolving away from adolescence (including being confronted with sex and sexuality), and that it is all a 'think-piece' in her head.  
> The only bit of that I kept was the reason for Jareth's clothing and looks- he's presented for the female gaze (and all about giving Sarah control over her choices).

His fifteenth trip coincided with your birthday. You were turning 33. While you’d known him for nearly three years, it was the first time he’d been present for the actual day. It was purely by accident, too.

You’d saved enough from your legal job to move into your own place. You were still friendly with your old roommate and your few friends from law school, but rescheduled the originally planned night out as soon as you’d come home from work and seen Jay sitting in your living room. Without consciously deciding to do so, you beamed and launched yourself at him. He gathered you up in a hug. It wasn’t the first time you’d hugged, but it was the nicest as his arms immediately wrapped around you and held you just as tightly as you held him. 

You were a tactile creature while Jay was less so. Even though he had no qualms about laying on your bed or completely disrupting your day (your life, sometimes), he was oddly shy with touch. The first time you’d hugged him, at the end of that first trip to Earth, he’d stiffened and gone completely still. You’d quickly dropped your arms and apologized, but he’d stopped you, squeezing your hand and reminding you he’d been without human (or fairy) companionship for centuries. 

He’d stopped with the glitter, gloves, and hulking cape when he visited. He still looked like the cover of a romance novel, a combination of ‘80s musician’ and ‘hot pirate,’ but it warmed your heart that he dressed more comfortably around you. 

You spent the evening of your birthday at home while he created illusions around your new-to-you apartment, making it a stunning marble ballroom where he taught you how to waltz the “fairy way.” The lesson ended with you and him on the ground, you giggling while he mock-scowled on the couch and rubbed his toes that you had stomped on one too many times.

As the clock rounded to midnight and your birthday was over, you two had sat close together on your purple velvet couch (courtesy of Jay’s illusions) and ate pizza straight from the box. You’d spent your weekly food budget on the biggest pie they had, as fairy appetites were apparently massive. Jay offered to create an illusion of money, but your conscience wouldn’t allow you to pay a small business in disappearing currency. He’d rolled his eyes fondly at you, a quirk he’d picked up from you, and you realized — this being was your best friend.

…

But he was more than a best friend. Yes, you saw him rarely, but that was the way of things sometimes. You saw him more than your estranged parents. You saw him less than your law school friends, but barely (as you were all busy as third to fourth year attorneys). He was a kindred spirit. You couldn’t put your finger on exactly how you felt about him, you just knew it was strong and you feared for the day he might stop coming.

That possibility came to a head a week before your 34th birthday. It wasn’t a milestone date, but Jay wanted to make up for the ‘dull’ experience the year before (although you had thought it was perfect just as it was). He was adamant, however, so you’d told him the best gift would have been to hang out with him uninterrupted for a few days. He’d sworn to make it so.

He arrived in your living room in a burst of blue glitter, wearing a cape and the same outfit you’d seen when you first met him. He’d crossed the room where you stood making scrambled eggs for dinner (fourth year government attorneys didn’t make much more than third-year ones) and lifted you up and spun you. The eggs went flying, but you didn’t care. His bright expression was catching, and you almost laughed in delight. 

He dropped your feet back to the ground but kept his hands on your arms. He was wearing gloves again, something he hadn’t done in your presence for a while, and you found yourself disappointed you couldn’t feel the soft skin of his palms against your bare arms. 

You wondered if he had gotten his days wrong. Because the Underground and Earth’s time wasn’t linear, it was possible he thought it was time to head away for your birthday weekend. You couldn’t afford the extra days off, but maybe you could convince him to hang around until then. Extra time with him was rare and would only add to the present you’d asked him for. You didn’t have to wonder long, as he started speaking in a rush.

“I may have found her! Sarah.” The joy in his expression hadn’t dimmed. In fact, it amplified when he nearly sighed her name. But all the elation you’d felt sucked out of the room at his pronouncement. It was happening — you were losing him.

Jay didn’t wait for you to respond, instead pivoting to your couch and turning it purple. He tossed himself on one corner but couldn’t sit still. He bounced back upward and paced your small living room. “She has read the book nearly a dozen times. She acts it out even!”

“How do you know?” You inwardly congratulated yourself for sounding so unaffected. Your voice had only wavered once.

“I have watched her,” he answered. He’d conjured three crystals and was juggling them with a wide smile on his face. In each, you thought you saw a dark-haired person. Sarah, you imagined. “She is beautiful,” he murmured, holding one up to the light. You felt no joy at being correct in your guess.

“You... watched her,” you said slowly. 

He flapped a hand negligently. “As we discussed. I’m getting to know the Runners.”

You grabbed the crystals, which popped as soon as your skin touched them. Jay finally looked at you. His expression went from annoyed to concerned.

“You are lucky those were mere images. You could have lost your hand,” he said, frowning.

“You’re stalking the Runners,” you responded.

“Stalking is a strong word. It is surveilling my possible consorts.”

“Stalking,” you repeated. Your voice had hardened. You didn’t want to consider the real reason you were upset.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. You crossed your arms and sunk down on the now-purple couch. The color bothered you.

“I’m not one of your subjects, Jay. You can’t talk to me like that.”

He furrowed his brow and joined you on the couch. You kept yourself still as you were afraid you’d either press yourself closer to him (like normal) or leap off the couch and far away from him and the sick feeling you had in your stomach.

“What is wrong with you?” He asked, reaching out a gloved hand towards you. You didn’t flinch, but you didn’t meet him halfway, like you would have.

“Nothing,” you muttered.

“Nothing? Nothing? Nothing... tra la la,” he said, huffing and squeezing his hand into a fist. You stayed quiet. He heaved a great sigh and leaned his head against the back of your couch. You watched the line of his jaw, his neck, the way the muscles moved as he swallowed. You looked down and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“I didn’t consider it stalking,” he finally uttered. “I  _ am _ a King, and a being of magic. Consequences, boundaries, none of them have meaning to me.” He placed his hand on your knee and squeezed. “I am sorry for upsetting you. That was what I believed you meant when you said to come ‘round and get to know them. It is not as if I can speak to all of them before they wish. You know I have no way of knowing whether they will or won’t. I can only communicate with the failed Runners, as you know.”

You did know, and counted yourself lucky that the magic allowed him to still visit you, and that you’d built a friendship. You sighed and opened your eyes. He was looking back at you and appeared earnest. You gave a weak smile. “You’re right. It’s unrealistic for me to ascribe human sensibilities to you. Stalk away, I guess.” You attempted a joke. “It’s not worse than kidnapping.”

He smiled, relief clear on his face. He conjured another crystal and levitated it in the air in front of you. “May I speak of my Sarah now?”

You nodded, although all you wanted to do was pop the crystal and run. That he already called her  _ ‘his’  _ Sarah felt like a vice gripped around your heart. As he described her and what he’d learned, you looked closely at the little crystal. She was beautiful, with her dark hair and bright eyes. She was wearing a white medieval-style dress with a flower crown. She looked like she’d popped out of a fairy tale from the time of Merlin and Morgana.  _ Of course a fairy king would want a fairy queen _ , you thought. You were only half listening to Jay, but then something he said pierced through the self-pity and uncomfortable sadness. 

“Wait, you said she wants to go to acting school?”

He paused in his long exultation of his potential future wife to answer. “Yes. She desires to further her education in the arts. She made mention of a desire to attend a Julliard in the future. Although were she to become my bride, she would —”

“Hang on,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “She wants to go to acting school like for a second career, like me? Or has she not graduated college yet?”

Jay furrowed his brow in thought. “I do not believe she has any income, save caring for her young brother. I believe she has yet to attend any secondary school.”

You immediately shot off the couch, hands covering your mouth. You turned back to Jay, who appeared bemused by your reaction. “How old is she?”

“Sixteen, I believe,” he answered with a shrug. “She bleeds, that is what matters.”

“She bleeds — are you kidding me?” Your hands had fallen from your mouth, but your expression was no less horror filled. “You’re taking children  _ from  _ children and expecting one of them to marry you?”

“You are all children to me, dear. Your lives are but a blink.”

Your voice was shrill. “I’m 34 — she is literally a child!”

He crossed his arms around his chest, another mannerism of yours he’d picked up on. “Did you not tell me only moments ago that you would not ascribe human sensibilities to me? She bleeds, she is adult enough to marry and bear children. That is enough.”

“There’s me giving you a little leeway for being creepy by watching potential Runners, which I’m now regretting completely,” you said, almost clawing at your throat. “And then there’s accepting you preying on children!”

He stood then and stalked across the room to stand directly in front of you. The lights dimmed, and you thought you heard thunder. “I am the Goblin King,” he growled. “I do not prey on children. I requisition them by demand of the Runners. You had no qualms with that part of my personality.”

“Those aren’t the children I’m talking about,” you started but he interrupted you. Jay had never been this angry in your presence before, except maybe when you’d first met and his goblins kidnapped Baby instead of a real child.

“But I am.  _ Those  _ children are wished away by unruly humans who, in that moment, care little for what happens to their charges. That I am cursed to find solace in one of those negligent and selfish humans is my burden to bear. She may remove that burden. Whether she, or any of them, meet your definition of ‘old enough’ is of no matter.”

A small part of you felt the loneliness he exuded, but it was overwhelmed by your frustration and alarm. “It’s inappropriate,” you said firmly. 

“You are neither my keeper nor my advisor.” His mismatched eyes almost looked black, the pupils eclipsed in his anger. You weren’t afraid of him, but his control looked tenuous. He strode back towards the window. “I had hoped you would share my joy, as a friend, as the only person I care about. Instead, I am chastised for behaving in the way demanded of me. As such, I must make another pronouncement- we must cancel our celebrations this coming week’s end, as Sarah could wish away her brother at any moment.” He spun and disappeared, leaving glitter in his wake. 

You sat down on the still-purple couch, the illusion not yet fading away in his absence. You pressed your palms to your eyes. You knew that time in the Underground could pass with no time passing here. If he thought he wouldn’t be there for your birthday, he thought this Sarah would stay with him, and he’d have no reason to see you again. Your friendship was as good as over. And what’s worse, as the sick feeling in your stomach intensified, you realized exactly how you felt about him — you loved him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. No Jareth (not truly) in this chapter.
> 
> It got a bit 'preachy,' but I was trying to stick to the theme--that you're an adult who thinks through your decisions and approaches things rationally, rather than jumping right in, and that Jareth finds someone who doesn't lose themselves in him and behaves like a partner, not a swain.

Your birthday weekend came. Jay never arrived. You went out of town anyway, to a small cabin in the woods you’d rented for the two of you. You thought he’d like the solitude and the ability to be himself (tight pants, magic, and all) without people staring at him. But it was just you, nature, and a barn owl that eyed you from the oak tree outside your bedroom window.

You went home, but still no Jay. You sold the couch.

…

A month went by and still no Jay. You hoped he was happy.

You quit your job. It never fit right anyway. 

You asked your old roommate for references to college courses on fairy tales. If The Labyrinth was real, if fairies were real, maybe other things were real too.

…

You spent the spring in Scotland at a small non-accredited School of Folklore, after attending several correspondence seminars over the fall and winter in your home city. 

There was another barn owl living outside the small inn where you were staying. The matron told you they were one of the most common owl species. It reminded you too much of your birthday weekend, where you only had the lonely looking owl for company. Where you’d realized Sarah must have chosen Jay, and he had no need to visit anymore.

You still hoped he was happy. 

…

Nearly a year had gone by since the last time you had seen Jay. You’d moved back home, sharing an apartment with a friend of your old roommate’s. You couldn’t afford your own place anymore, you’d spent your savings on your time off. 

You didn’t regret it. You didn’t _technically_ regret your conversation with Jay either because it needed to be said, though you had revisited the fight in your head more times than you could count and could have approached it more sympathetically. You understood where he was coming from. It wasn't like he had any control. He didn’t get to decide who said the words. Except for you, who’d said the words jokingly, who else is going to wish away a child but a tempestuous teenager? That’s what growing up was about — testing limits, learning control, recognizing responsibility, e.g. running the Labyrinth to make up for their mistakes. 

You were making up for your _own_ mistakes now, the mistake of not living the life you wanted. You weren’t happy as a lawyer, but it didn’t need to consume you. You’d gone too far in the other direction — too focused on responsibilities and being an adult. There had to be a middle ground. The best thing you had ever done was the impulsive decision to befriend Jay. 

You didn’t go back to the law full time, but traveling and studying fairy tales didn’t pay the bills (ask your former roommate), especially since you didn’t have a degree in it. Instead, you worked part time at a large law firm in your city doing document review. It was tedious, but paid well, and left your brain open for fantasizing. You wrote some, taking the writing skills you’d learned as a lawyer and attempting to translate them to creative pieces. It was difficult, but a challenge you relished. You’d sold one short story so far.

The day of your 35th birthday had you sitting at home alone. Your current roommate was a junior accountant and spent his days in a high-rise downtown. You didn’t have a document review assignment that week, leaving you without income, but that was okay. You could read and write, and try to take some time for yourself. That was what life was about anyway, finding balance, finding joy.

As you sat on yet another ugly floral patterned sofa (this one was your roommate’s that he’d obtained when his Nana retired down in Florida), you heard a skittering sound by your feet. You knew your city was known for rats, but you’d never seen one _in_ the apartment before. You lifted your feet and grabbed the nearest weapon, a book called The Black Unicorn, and brandished it. It was paperback, so it wouldn’t hurt whatever was sneaking under the couch, but hopefully you could stun the little beast and run away. 

The scampering sound intensified, but this time under the kitchen table, then by the lampshade, then above the head of the couch. There were so many of them. The last time you’d heard something similar was when…

“Jay?” You asked the empty apartment tentatively.

The skittering stopped. You wrinkled your nose. It _had_ to be Jay. As far as you knew, mice didn’t respond to commands. And certainly not names. 

Instead, two creatures popped up next to your crossed knees. You held in a scream. 

Their skin looked like faded and mottled leather. One’s face looked like a misshapen alligator, with two beady eyes barely visible below a horned hat. The other had a face shaped like a turnip, with bowl cut gray hair and wide round eyes like billiard balls. 

“Is this her?” the beady eyed one said.

“If it is, she don’t look like much,” turnip-head replied. You narrowed your eyes. 

“I thought she was a doctor,” the first said, scratching the horned hat as if it was an extension of its body. (Maybe it was.)

“Now, how’d you know if she looks how a doctor’s ‘posed to look?"

“It’s her,” a third voice said from the kitchen. You and the two creatures (goblins, your mind guessed) turned to see a thinner, taller creature leaning against the formica countertop. He had the same leathery skin as the other two creatures, but his face was angular, with a bushy mustache that hid his mouth and eyebrows that covered his eyes. 

“Who the hell are all of you?” It gratified you that your voice was level and you remained calm. The Goblin King had been your best friend for years, and you studied fairy tales, any other reaction would have been embarrassing. 

“Goblins,” turnip-head said. She (he? it?) looked around you to the one in the kitchen. “I told you she don’t look like much. What doctor don’t know us as goblins?”

The beady eyed one apparently didn’t care, waxing poetic about how he (she? it?) liked how dusty you kept the floor the dust under the couch, which aggravated turnip-head’s allergies. The two started arguing and pushing each other, before brawling on the living room floor.

You pressed your palms to your eyes. This was not what you had in mind for your birthday.

“Enough,” the taller goblin said. He stalked towards the other two and kicked them apart. He turned back to you and bowed. “My name is Sova. I am one of the Goblin King’s advisors and assist him in running the kingdom. I am here to beg your aid.”

Your jaw dropped. Not because of what he said, _per se_ . You assumed they were goblins before they’d told you so. But you hadn’t gotten the impression goblins were all that...useful...to Jay, or that they spoke so well. You stumbled out your thoughts and Sova bared his teeth in a facsimile of a smile, his mustache curling out of the way on its own like on a puppet string. The teeth he _wasn’t_ missing were jagged and sharp, all canines. 

“Like humans and fairies, there are some of us who aspire to greater things, and some of us who are smarter than others.” He eyed the other two disdainfully. “And others who are our jesters or simply cannon fodder.” 

“I didn’t bring a cannon!” The beady eyed one grabbed hold of their horns and wailed. Turnip-head smacked them until the helmet spun in place and the two toppled to the ground.

“If we could, my lady,” Sova said, gesturing to the empty end of the sofa. You nodded dumbly, still trying to take in what was going on, since it didn’t appear Jay was with them. “We beg of you to come to the Labyrinth and speak with the King. He needs you.”

You crossed your arms around your stomach and tried not to scowl. “Are Sarah and the fairies not enough for him?” Okay, you weren’t responding as maturely as you probably should have. But just because you were an adult, just because you _understood_ why Jay did what he did, didn’t mean you weren’t hurt. 

Sova cocked his head to the side, as if confused. It was an oddly human gesture, which made you revisit your definition of what was ‘human’ and not. You were probably being speciest, now that you thought about it.

“Sarah,” Sova said, steepling his hands below his chin. “You mean the last Runner.”

You nodded, feeling a tightness in your throat. He had all but confirmed Sarah had chosen Jay and stayed with him in the Labyrinth. 

“Sarah turned his world upside down,” Sova admitted. “But that had more to do with you. You’d gotten him halfway there, and when she rejected him on top of you ending your friendship with him, he never came back from it.”

“ _I_ ended our friendship. That’s not what —” you cut yourself off and stared at Sova’s gaunt face. Had you heard right? “Wait — Did you say Sarah rejected him?”

Sova nodded. “Yes, and he has refused two Runners since that date. Two different humans have said the words, have offered up children, but he will not go to them and begin the game again.”

You shot to your feet and pressed your clasped hands against your chest. “He’s still cursed, he’s — he’s still single.” 

Sova looked bemused. “Which is why I need your help.”

The momentary hope you’d felt vanished as quickly as it came and you slumped back to your seat. “I can’t, Sova. I’ll be completely honest — I love Jay and if circumstances had allowed it, I would have happily accepted more from him. But truly, whether he wanted me or Sarah, he was my best friend. I don’t need a romantic relationship with him to want him to be happy and to stay his platonic friend.” 

You ran an unsteady hand through your hair. You’d thought about this a lot over the last year, what exactly was _wrong_ with your friendship, and how reopening that door without massive changes was not a good choice for you personally. “His consort should be the most important person in his life. He deserves an all-consuming love. I get that, and respect that. I want that for him. But it is an unhealthy kind of love to abandon all other relationships for it.” 

You’d done that before, on both sides, the obsessive/only-have-time-for-them love where you almost lost your personality (also known as ‘the time you changed your major to zoology because your partner studied zoology’), and being left behind when your law school best friend got a girlfriend, a friendship that never recovered. You looked at Sova earnestly. “And it’s unhealthy of me to put up with it. If I thought our friendship would survive him breaking the curse, sure, I’d do whatever you needed. But he all but told me as soon as he found his consort, I was out of his life. That’s not real friendship and I’m worth more than that.” 

“My King is...unyielding,” Sova said. It sounded as though the words were being forced from him. “He has never had to compromise before. With the Runners, it is always all or nothing — they choose him or they don’t. With his kingdom, it is the same, but it is he who holds the control. It is why he is so rigid with us, because he has no power otherwise.”

“You’re not selling me here, Sova. He’s more of an adult than I am. Real, honest, relationships don’t have ultimatums, they don’t have sell-by or expiration dates. I’m not sacrificing my well-being on the off chance he _doesn’t_ leave me behind when he breaks the curse.”

Sova stared at the two goblins who had begun tussling on the carpet again. “What if you could break the curse instead?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Just as I heard you — you love him, you wish for his happiness. That already puts you leagues ahead of the Runners that may compete.”

“That doesn’t fix the problem with him obsessing over his consort at the expense of others. I’m just replacing whoever else it might be.” Damn if those words didn’t hurt your heart to say. But you wanted to be a good friend to him, even if you weren’t friends anymore, even at the expense of your own romantic desires.

Sova huffed, his mustache wafting against his breath. “That is a later problem to deal with. You can help him. Faerie knows why,” he said in a sotto voice.

You shook your head in bewilderment. “But it’s not possible. I don’t have a child to wish away, so I can’t compete. Plus, I’m not going to find one to turn into a goblin for such a selfish reason. No offense,” you added. The goblins seemed content, but it wasn’t your call whether a child should be changed or not.

“Assuming that part is a non-issue, is that your only concern with the idea?”

You thought about it. Not just for a minute, but for several, maybe longer. It was a big decision, like you’d told Jay when you first met him, when your friendship had barely begun. Could you give up everything for him? 

No, not everything, you conceded. That was a path that led to resentment. It was a path that removed your identity. It went too far in the other direction, one that wasn’t rooted in reality. But, you could compromise a life with him, with your best friend. It wouldn’t be perfect, and there would surely be arguments. But the sum of your life would be happy.

Later, when the sun had been close to setting, you told Sova your answer and the four of you prepared to visit Jay in the Underground. “How will you make me a Runner?” you asked as Sova opened your living room window.

“Leave that up to me,” he said smugly, guiding you out of the window and leading you to the expanse of land just before the Labyrinth. “Goblins are tricksters, after all.”

He took an abrupt turn as soon as you entered the Labyrinth, one he said was a shortcut. The other two goblins scampered ahead of you. You stared up at the castle in the distance. It looked just the same. 

“Do you think he’d choose me, if he had the option?”

Sova smiled again but didn’t answer, as he whisked you to the castle at the center of the Labyrinth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (current) end of this little foray into Jareth/OC.

Jareth sat on his throne in his empty throne room. Not quite indolently, not anymore. Morosely, petulantly, heartbroken, any similar word covered how he felt about his mistakes.

It had been almost an earth year since the worst had happened. Not Sarah rejecting him, that was a blessing in disguise, though he hadn’t realized it at the time. Sarah was, as you had told him, too young. The Labyrinth was her opportunity to grow up, to recognize things about herself and better herself. Jareth didn’t begrudge her that, though he’d felt a desperate sort of panic when she’d told him no. He had thought she was his chance, since you couldn’t run and you were probably the only person who truly knew him. She, who had read his book so often and who had seemed to _call_ to the Goblin King character, who had thought up marriage, who had dreamed of him in the crystal. If he couldn’t have you, she was an... adequate substitute. 

Of course, that’s not what he thought at the time. At the time, he was nearly giddy with the idea that he might break the curse. His friendship with you aside, he was desperately lonely and equally desperate to find love and companionship. How stupid he was.

He’d had you, and he didn’t anymore. It may not have been a romantic love, at least not on your side, but there was love there. There was companionship. He could have made a happy, if brief (only because of your lifespan), life as your friend. Instead, he’d let his anger and panic at your censure get the best of him, and he tossed you aside for a silly little substitute.

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. That was an uncharitable thought to both Sarah and you. She could never replace you and she wasn’t a substitute. Sarah was spark, and fire, and passion. She was embers flicking off a broken hearth, an untamable wildfire, something just as likely to burn his fingers as to provide him warmth. You were a constantly lit flame, steady like a bonfire. The sparks were there, yes, but you were unlikely to burn his hand unless he stupidly stuck his fingers in the blaze. You blanketed him with a comforting and pleasing warmth. Not that you _couldn’t_ give off sparks like Sarah, your last conversation burned his soul enough that he knew well the truth of that. And not that Sarah wouldn’t someday grow to be a vibrant and steady fire, like you. But you had longevity, stability, and experience on your side that she, if she was lucky, might grow into. You wouldn’t stamp your feet and say things weren’t fair; you wouldn’t abandon him in a flight of fancy. That was something the young Sarah would have done; it was something _he_ did.

If he was honest, Sarah had no real chance. Had he never met you, perhaps he could have enticed her to stay. It didn’t escape his notice that when he gave her her dreams in the crystal, she imagined him. She imagined _them together_ , for Faerie’s sake! If that wasn’t a sign that he could woo her, if he’d tried harder, he’d eat his cape. 

But he was tired of playing the game. He was tired of putting on a show, of behaving how the _Runners_ wanted, as opposed to his own desires. He was exhausted living up to their expectations of him. He’s said such to Sarah and meant it. He’d experienced the freedom of his own expression and desires, something you gave him because you had no expectations for him. (Except his friendship in whatever form he could give it to you.)

After Sarah won, he visited her once. She seemed well. He visited you more often than was healthy for his own peace of mind. He never approached you though, he didn’t deserve it after his abandonment. Seeing you from afar had to be enough. It surprised him to learn that you had rearranged your life so much after he left you. He hoped it was for the better. He couldn’t handle it if he had made your life worse.

On his bad days, he conjured a crystal for himself, one that would show him you. Not you as you were, but an imaginary you who still spoke with him, laughed with him, loved him even as a friend. It was during those dark imaginings that he realized the true depth of his feelings for you. It _had_ to be love, not simply friendship. One of his favorite crystals, his favorite dream, was you sitting with him in the throne room, smiling at him again, telling him you understood and forgave him and loved him too. On his _truly_ bad days, he conjured a crystal of you chastising him, rejecting him like all the others. 

“I can’t tell if this place looks awful or normal.” He heard your voice and hazily looked towards the entrance of the throne room. You were standing there, which was... odd. He didn’t even remember conjuring the crystal. His eyes drank you in, as they did each time he imagined your visage. Your hair was a bit different than he normally imagined it, but otherwise, it was you in front of him. False you, but you nonetheless. Since he couldn’t remember conjuring the crystal, he couldn’t remember whether he’d picked the bad scenario or the truly bad scenario. You were still speaking; perhaps that was his clue. “Honestly, Jay. Chickens and straw? Even clean, it’d still be a mess.” Your eyes crinkled in the corner as you walked closer to him. 

The bad scenario then. Only when he imagined you loving him did you smile at him like that. He pulled himself from the throne and met you halfway. He gazed into your beautiful and beloved eyes but your smile faltered.

“We have a lot to discuss but... can I hug you?” You sounded worried, more like the real you and not the imaginary one who only operated in the extremes (love or hate, laughing or shouting). Maybe this was a new version of the _truly_ bad scenario that his subconscious had thought up.

But he was a masochist, and he opened his arms to you no matter the risk. You hugged him tight and felt so real. He buried his face in your hair. 

He had missed your warmth, he thought as you held him. He had missed your companionship. He had missed your touch. Your friendship had grown like a rooted tree. It took time; it required patience, but it was strong. And he’d taken an axe to it. Still, he had his dreams. That was enough.

“Sir…” One of the goblins (Sova, perhaps?) stood behind you. 

“I’ve told you to leave me alone when I’m in my dreams,” he muttered, still not easing his grip on you. You stiffened.

“This one is real, sir. That is all I wanted to tell you,” Sova said in his dry voice, like he was giving an update on the weather or the state of the gardens, as if he hadn’t set off a cannon into Jareth’s heart.

You struggled in his arms and he pulled back to stare wide-eyed at your face. “You’re real?”

…

Hugging Jay had been a tiny selfish act you wanted for yourself before you opened yourself up to any possible rejection or disappointment. Yes, Sova seemed to think Jay would be happy with you if you broke the curse, _and_ he had a reasonably viable idea on how to break it, but you were a realist. (Ironic, given all the fantasies you chased.) But just in case things didn’t turn out how you and Sova imagined, you wanted one last minute with Jay.

Until he mentioned you being real. You knew exactly what that meant, as he’d explained the Labyrinth and the Runners, and how his crystals worked, on many occasions. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” you asked, gazing up into those mismatched eyes you loved so much.

“You are real!” Jay picked you up as if you weighed nothing and spun you around the room. (Your brain was instantly reminded of the last time he did that, a thought you forced down into the recesses of your soul.)

“Oh man, that talk of ours is going to have layers,” you said, breathlessly, when he finally dropped you back to the ground. He kept you close, leaving his hands on your hips. “Seriously — we have so much to talk about, boundaries on using dream crystals will just get tacked onto the list.”

“What are you doing here?” He sounded as breathless as you did, and you knew it was because you were there, and not because he overexerted himself. 

You steeled yourself up for what you were about to say. You had to have faith that Jay wanted you too and push down your insecurities and the fear that he might rebuff you. “If I could run…. would you want me to? Not just to end the curse, but because you’d want me?”

“Yes.” The word bled out of him like it couldn’t stay inside him any longer. 

Tension released, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Then, let’s do it. I love you. I’ll choose you.”

Without warning, he plunged his fingers into your hair and pulled you back to him, pressing his lips on yours. He kissed you like you were everything he ever wanted, caressing your face with his gloveless fingers, fingers that shook with nerves or desire. He pressed against you as if he was afraid something might come between you (even simply air) and he was forestalling the risk.

It was probably trite to say that his kiss changed everything for you, that you saw stars, that it felt like coming home. And, in fact, you wouldn’t say that. It was still perfect; it was still passion overloaded and bubbling under your skin, but it was only a kiss. And you wanted it all.

You pulled away, and he chased your mouth until you pushed firmly on his taut chest. His smile, when you finally saw his beautiful face again, was lopsided. 

“We need to...do the thing, and the talking, some talking” you said. Okay, maybe the kiss _did_ move mountains, since you could barely remember how to speak.

“The thing, the run?”

You nodded. “But talking.” You took a deep breath. “I’m not giving up my life for you to move down here. While fairyland,” here he mouthed ‘fairyland’ with a confused expression, “or whatever you call it, and the Labyrinth are probably great, we can’t stay here forever. This is a partnership. We compromise and make a life together, however that might look. But it includes Earth time.”

He pulled away and slumped down onto the throne. “Then this won’t work. I love you, and I want you desperately. But I can’t give you that. I’m bound here, and can only visit Earth for those that have run.”

“Exactly,” you said, following him and standing between his spread legs. Your own felt a little woozy from the combination of the kiss and his declaration of love. “I’ll be with you, a former Runner, so we can travel topside whenever we want. Plus, if breaking the curse means you can see your friends again, I assume the enchantments release whatever hold the Labyrinth has on you, meaning you could travel somewhat freely to whatever other realms you were kept from.”

He stared at you dumbfounded before reaching out to kiss you again. “You precious thing,” he said between kisses to your mouth, cheeks, nose. 

“Lawyer,” you said unrepentant. “Loopholes are my specialty.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he laughed.

“Like a piece of cake,” you respond. 

He huffed then, but you didn’t understand why and he didn’t explain. “I agree to your terms, Doctor. I’ve already realized inflexibility gets me nothing.” He held you close, and you inhaled his clean and comforting scent.

“We can figure it out later,” you murmured into his chest. “What matters is that we love each other and we’re agreeing to go for it.”

“And what loophole do you have in mind to Run?”

You turned to Sova. The lanky goblin strutted towards you both and bowed low. When Jay eyed him quizzically, Sova clapped his hands and three goblins scuttled into the room. Sova swiftly picked up the smallest of them and held it out to you. It was a scrunched up little beast, with leathery green skin and tufts of gray hair sprouting unevenly from its head. “Go on,” Sova urged. “Make your wish.”

You released Jay and hunched over to stare at the littlest goblin. It stared back, unblinking. You took a deep breath and prayed it would work. “I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now.”

You waited. Nothing happened. You stared at the dinky goblin child, who was now drooling onto Sova’s fingers. Your heart plummeted in your chest and you turned around to say goodbye to Jay, sure you’d be hoisted back to Earth as soon the magic of the place realized you weren't a runner. You hoped you’d still get to kiss him, even if you couldn’t break the curse.

Instead, Jay was grinning at you, a wide smile, almost splitting his face. He sashayed over to you and grabbed the child, handing it back to its parents. Without losing the beaming smile, he took you back in his arms and whispered in your ear. “Turn back, my love, before it’s too late.” 

_The End (or, perhaps, your new beginning)_

…

_Alternate extra scene._

_A/N: I like the ending I have; it is succinct and completes my own personal prompt. But this next bit burrowed into my brain. It is after the above, once ‘you’ and Jareth stop manhandling each other long enough to work through the details of breaking the curse._

“How do I do this? Do I just say, ‘I give up, the child is yours,’ and we’re good?”

Jay was still beaming, but it quickly turned mischievous. It was a look that preceded that time he gave all your pillows feet (you had to catch one that broke out of the apartment and ambled down the stairs before your elderly neighbors saw it and, you feared, would have a stroke at the sight). It was the look that preceded when he convinced you to call in sick and reenact The Neverending Story after it came out (Jay identified with Atreyu) with you playing both Bastion and The Childlike Empress. It was a look that made you behave in ways that were completely undignified and immature and not anything that made you a ‘real’ adult. But that was the fun of it; he kept you in balance. He helped you with your middle ground. 

You grinned back at him.

“I believe, dear Doctor,” he said, voice smooth, “that you need to run the Labyrinth.”

You shook your head, even as your smile stretched over your cheeks. “No way. You’ve told me too many stories about it. I’ll end up falling in the Bog of Eternal Stench, and you’ll only have yourself to blame when I stink up the sheets of your bed.”

“I’ll not let you fall... did you say my bed?”

Your smile was now your own version of a mischievous smirk. “Still want to waste 13 hours by me running?”

He pursed his lips and trailed his gaze up and down your figure. He exhaled heavily. “On the one hand, this is my one chance to make you run it.”

“Not true, we’ll have lots of chances for me to see it, even if I’m not running.”

“At least get to the Escher Room,” he wheedled.

“That’s at the very end!”

“Fine,” he pouted, which made you laugh as it wasn’t an expression you’d have ever expected from the provocative and seductive Goblin King you met years earlier. But it was befitting your Jay. “If nothing else, let me show you the Fireys.”

You rolled your eyes and intertwined your fingers with his. “Promise you’ll put all my parts back in the right place if they take off a leg or something.”

“Or head,” he muttered. Louder, he said, “King’s honor.”

“Lead the way, Jay. We can talk while we’re walking.”

And as he led you from the throne room to show off his Labyrinth, he cleared his throat, “speaking of talking, I should probably tell you my name. It’s not Jay. You see, a fairy’s name….”

 _(The real end, or the_ next _part of your beginning)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three final comments.
> 
> 1\. It's up to you whether breaking the curse and loving/living with you means Jareth now has a human lifespan, or whether you have the option to turn immortal. (I did grow up with Tuck Everlasting and love most vampire/fae novels. So I could go either way.)  
> 2\. Under my rules of the curse, technically Jareth and you could have gotten together without breaking the curse. He's allowed to visit former runners and you are one. But the same problem happens where you're all he has: he's giving up his family and friends (and whoever else he wants to see outside of the Labyrinth and the runners) to be with you. In this AU, that isn't desirable, so he needs to break the curse to have fulfilling relationships with someone other than his love. If someone else had chosen Jareth, resentment could grow--Jareth gets to visit all his fairy buddies after the honeymoon period wears off, while that person (as far as they both think since they don't consider the loophole) only has Jareth.  
> 3\. Thank you for reading my first fanfic!

**Author's Note:**

> There will be 5 chapters. They are written, but need formatting/splitting up and editing. 
> 
> This is done without a beta, and is my first FF ever. Thanks for reading.


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